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The Sword of Mordred: Part I
- The Sword of Mordred: Part I -
A winding and perilous course took me forth from Camelot, in the days when Arthur was the king of all the folk of what today is called Britain. There were goodly reasons for my setting forth, and of that journey which I undertook, and why it was I undertook it, there were dark undercurrents to all that had transpired... beneath which, some measure of light was at work, though at the time I knew it not. A big gray steed carried me, a steed with a night black saddle. I refused the offer of a chariot, for those were costly, and then I would need to tend to the hunger and care of two horses rather than simply one. Thus it was that this lone steed proved more fitted to the needs of my urgent quest. What was my quest? To, if possible, seek to learn and understand the truth of my lineage. For though my mother had told me, it vexed me greatly what she had revealed, and brought me much concern. For if Arthur was indeed, as she had said, my father... it would explain why he had knighted me, wishing to keep me close to him... and to the throne of his kingdom. But still did he refuse to name me his heir, because no child born of the incestuous union that I had been produced from could ever be allowed to reign as king over such a kingdom as Arthur's. His half sister was my mother, and she a great and much feared queen in her own right, as well as a priestess of the ancient gods and a practitioner of forbidden sorcery. She had told me that he would never treat me like a son, that he would never love me like a father should, and all as she had said proved to be true once I came to Camelot for the first time and was pledged into his service as soon as I was able to prove myself worthy through more than just being the son of a queen. Only Arthur himself and she who was my mother knew the truth of my birth, and they kept it between them, telling no one of Arthur's court about it. Instead, I was to all others introduced always as the youngest nephew of Arthur, and was expected to hold to this deception lest the truth cost me my very life. For even had I not been a child born of incest, there were many who might seek to slay a true blood heir to the king of Camelot. For such as I was, and should have been lawfully, was to some a challenge to their own high ambitions. Though I had no such ambitions of becoming king at the time... that changed, once I beheld things in the court that altered my once high opinion of Arthur and made me in time come to hate him, and see him as a villain of the blackest sort. It was never that I doubted my parentage... I knew that his darkness, which he hid from all so expertly and well, had coupled with my mother's and that both in me did produce something far darker still. I was not so innocent or naive to ignore what lay within the deep places of my innermost self. What I went in quest of on this occasion, was the answer to where this old darkness... for I sensed it was ancient... originated from. Of all in the court of the great king, I think that only Merlin had guessed at who I truly was... but he was ever kindly to me in the way that a grandfather is to their grandchild. He would dote upon me, give me gifts, and teach me some of my magical secrets once he saw that I had the aptitude for learning the ancient druid arts that were his specialty. He was a man of the old ways, the ancient traditions and the ways of the Mother Goddess and the Horned God of old. I truly liked him! He was not a hypocrite like my father was. Arthur said he wished to create, with Camelot, a kingdom where the Pagan ways of our ancestors could live in harmony with the new faith of the Christians. But more and more, he slid into the role of a Christian king... and our roots were swiftly in danger of becoming either lost entirely or confused and muddled beyond recognition. Noting this, I do believe, was the beginning of my enmity towards him! As much as his refusal to acknowledge me as she should have. He was not a bad king, my father. He was just a king who had lost his way and in time become something he probably had never wanted to be. I pitied him as much as a I grew to hate him. In truth, this was all partly why I needed to get away from Camelot for a time... to clear my head of all its' worries and growing fears, and to try and find some measure of inner peace, and truth. Just for the sake of clarification... Camelot was the name of both Arthur's kingdom and the great hill fort (which he kept adding unto until it more resembled a great castle than a fort) from which he ruled it. By the time of my birth, it had already surpassed any such fortress that existed elsewhere in the land. It was quite splendid!
My name was Mordred... as you may have perhaps already guessed by now. In the northern lands that my mother ruled over, I was called Medraut, and it was by that name which the folk of Wales called me as well. My mother's name was somewhat infamous in the land, for she was Morgause of Orkney. But, her enemies all called her the Witch Queen of Orkney. She was the blood sister, of that legendary high priestess of the Sisterhood of Avalon who was called Morgan the Fey. The blood of the Fair Folk was in our veins, and it was said that any child born from such a bloodline could only ever be a disciple of the old ways... which indeed I was, despite Arthur's occasional attempts to sway me to his peculiar and misplaced blend of Paganism and Christianity. I had many brothers! And every one, like me, became a knight of the Round Table. Gawain, Gareth, Gaheris and Agravain were their names, and I was of them all the very youngest... having been born last. By the time I reached adulthood and became a knight for the first time, they had already... the lot of them... achieved a great deal of renown, and had adventures and tales to tell me which seemed to my ears almost the stuff of legends. Of all my brothers, truth be it that Gawain was my favorite... and the most like unto myself in many ways. He was courteous, full of compassion, and was honorable as well. But he could be impatient at times, much like myself, and was prone to thinking with his heart more than his head. A trait I likewise shared, with him... probably to a fault. It was his stories which fascinated me the most of all my brothers, and he was the one I looked up to as a role model and tried to be the most like. I despised Gaheris, however! Of all my brothers, he was the most wicked and mean-spirited, being prone to great cruelties and more vices than a knight aught to have. Years hence, he would murder our mother and dishonor our house by doing so. But that was long in the future at this point in time, though the signs were there that the man was not right in his thoughts. Whilst all of my brothers looked very much like the children of Morgause and her husband Lot, he who was king over the Orkney islands and the greater realm of Lothian... I looked quite different from them. I was a great deal paler than most men of the north, my skin being as white as snow, a trait that I shared with my mother's sister Morgan. Something that ran in our family... but sometimes skipped generations. My hair was pale blonde with reddish highlights, due to my mother having had pale blonde hair and my father Arthur having had light reddish brown hair. I had my father's grayish blue eyes, and only I of all my family had eyes that shade. For, my mother's eyes had been green, and the eyes of King Lot were a deep brown. I had my mother's high cheekbones, delicate skin, slender bones, and small mouth. And I also had her most peculiar feature, that being her slightly tapered ears. A trait she had in common with both her sister Morgan and with oddly enough Merlin himself. Though Merlin it was said had the blood of the Fair Folk within him as well, with many of the Christian faith cruelly claiming that his father was the Devil, which was far from the truth. I had my father's nose, which was somewhat aquiline but not in a way that was overly long... it was noble looking, and it went well with my other features. I was not a tall man, and easily the shortest of all my brothers, being five feet and eight inches in height. As a child, I had been sickly quite often, and were it not for the healing arts of my aunt Morgan I would have died on several occasions. She once told me... that I only survived because I was under the protection of the old gods of the land. I was of average build, being the weakest physically of all my family, and my face unlike my brothers was more feminine looking than masculine. I had long eyelashes... slender fingers... and a soft voice. People often found my voice to be compelling, and when I spoke people tended more oft than not to listen to what I had to say. I was, some whispered, a throwback to the Fair Folk of old in countless respects... and because of that, some who were not of the old ways and the ancient beliefs did think me to be as much a product of the Devil as Merlin. Though neither of us, were the spawn of Hell! I was known to some as the Pale Knight, and because my almost albino-like visage produced fear in the more superstitious... I often when abroad in the land, wore a black hooded cloak about me. So now you know of my family, my appearance, and some of the challenges I faced in my daily life back then. Far, from the villain that the legends would one day make me out to be! In all truth, I even tried to be a hero.
The journey across the land was not as long as I had perhaps anticipated, and yet it seemed to go on... and on... for a great many days indeed. I stopped at various small villages and hamlets, and paid always for a room at this inn or that, so that I could sleep through each night in comfort rather than risk being set upon by bandits whilst sleeping beneath the stars. Sometimes, folk recognized me and sometimes it seemed that they did not. The fame of the knights of the Round Table traveled further than I realized... but not as far as it might have been assumed to be by the king himself. It was not like I tried to draw the attention of folk, either, preferring more oft than not to remain anonymous during most of my journeys. I wore a long ankle-length black tunic of fine quality which also had long sleeves, and about my waist I wore a soft leather belt. Beneath the tunic, I wore a pair of baggy white trousers tucked into a pair of fur boots. And sheathed at my side, was a short sword of old Roman design, a gift given to me by Arthur at the festival that was held to honor the occasion of my knighting. Ever since that day, that blade had not left my side, and it was by its' metal that I had seen Arthur's justice done. It was upon that sword that I swore oaths of honor, by its' sharpness that many enemies had been sent to their deaths. Though I never sought conflict, for such was not a knight's way, I did not run from it either. But until this journey, that same of which I write herein, I had not as of yet had the sort of adventurers that could be sung of by the bards of the king's court. My cloak kept me warm as my steed carried me farther and farther from home and into lands which I had never before ventured to. Though I had brought plenty of coin, and had some very needed supplies tucked away in my horse's saddlebags... there was always a fear of running low or having to go back before actually accomplishing anything. But soon, once I was well within the borders of Wales, I sometimes encountered many who were willing to take me in for the night and feed me well in return for me serving for a bit as a guard for their lands for the length of a single day. The day, and of course its' work, always came first. Sometimes, the work was dull and nothing happened, but during the worst times bandits or thieves would set upon the places I was supposed to protect. I was not alone, and the menfolk of those places always fought at my side against these criminals. But inevitably, those ever and always ended bloodily, those encounters... but at last it saw that justice was being done and that the folk of the land were being protected. Folk began to see that the Pale Knight could be compassionate as well as fearsome, and sometimes people would seek me out having heard that I was willing to fight for the well being of the common people. It was not always for fighting that I was known, though... and on one such day, as a voice called out to me from one of the cottages I passed when making my way, slow as my progress was, across the land, I came to realize that perhaps my fame did precede me after all. It was a small solitary cottage in the middle of pretty much nowhere... surrounded, on all sides, by rather vast stretches of grassland, hills, and deep woods. The season was mid-autumn. The air was crisp, the skies grayer than my horse, and there was fog and mist among the trees, rolling down from the far hills. The voice from within the cottage, exclaimed loudly: “Sir knight! You are the Pale Knight that people tell of, the one who aids folk in need for no pay except the kindness of food and a bed. Come hither, to the window of my cottage, and let us speak! I may have a task more to your liking than most.” It was an old man's voice, and I was intrigued by his words. I took him to be a hermit, and so he looked to be. He wore a long thick robe much like a monk's robe, and a shaggy looking fur cloak... his face looking quite ancient with its' long bushy white beard. His hair was long, and surprisingly still full for one so old. He had sad looking dark eyes, and an almost cruel mouth though his manner was friendly and his tone of voice sometimes melancholy as he said to me once I stood by the window regarding him, having gotten off of my horse to do so: “If you seek things more esoteric, than the usual forms of payment you take... then heed what I shall tell you now! In yonder forest... there is a place, where someone awaits you. Fear you not, this is no trap and I am not one to consort with the sort of criminals who would see harm befall a knight of the Round Table itself. Such would surely imperil my very soul! I am merely a messenger of sorts, and a servant of the old ways. If you too serve them, then venture into those woods, and be bold.”
I saw the direction he had pointed in, and looked off in it, turning my back to him for but a moment as I did so. When I turned back to regard him once more, he was gone and I saw that all the interior of that cottage was in a state that indicated no one had lived there in countless decades. Only a black raven, so could be seen within, along with several rats. The raven took off out another of the cottage's windows... leaving me to wonder if somehow the raven itself had been the old man. I got back on my horse and did make for those woods at a reasonable pace. Whoever awaited me therein, I knew somehow that I had to meet with them and learn what it is they wished of me. But as I had earlier noted, the woods were filled with fog and mist, and before long I was in danger of becoming quite lost. Deeper and deeper I rode on, slowing my pace when the forest grew wilder and the way through it less clear to guess at. Soon, it did feel as if I was riding through clouds, and after some time like that the fog and the mists parted, which I was quite relieved to see. But whereas just moments before, it had been daylight out... it now was night. For as I looked up at the skies above the dark forest through which I rode, which now because it was all in the darkness of night, had become to my eyes the blackest woods I had ever beheld, I could see that the stars were out and the moon was shining, its' pale white face reminding me of my own. And in the woods before me, among the twisted black forms of the trees, and amid high brambles, there did loom an ancient looking structure. It looked to be something from the ancient world, for nothing of the design of it was evocative of the sort of architecture I was familiar with. It was square, in shape... and, had to it the look of a temple of some sort. Eight columns were along the front of it, four to one side of the gate, and four to the other. The gate itself was made of stone rather than wood, and the entire temple looked to be made from stone. Big, heavy stones, of the sort that no one built with any longer. Like those of the megalithic structures that could be seen in various parts of the land, only unlike they... this building did not appear to be in a state of disrepair. Whatever it had once been used for, this place still appeared to be strong and mighty, like unto the mountains of the earth in that way. The roof looked to be curved in the front and back, and straight at the sides, with the middle almost forming into a dome. The pillars all looked strange, because they had a design upon them which looked serpentine. There were alcoves and niches set into the outer front wall, to both sides of the gate, just behind the pillars. In every one of the recesses could be seen piles of human skulls. It was common for the ancient Pagan folk of the land to in battle claim the heads of their enemies. Oft, such heads would end up displayed as trophies. I wondered if that is what I was looking at here... a temple built by the people of those bygone times. Then, I did so recall that Morgan had one told me how those times were not as distant as many believed. It was a very simple statement, and here I saw the truth of it made manifest. Crows nested in many of the highest of the alcoves, and I could hear their course cries growing louder as I approached the gate to have a look at it more closely. The gate looked to have not been opened in countless ages, and I saw no way to open it. It was a solid, featureless stone slab of the sort that one might set up to forever seal a tomb. I pounded on its' surface with my fists, knowing in my heart that such a futile gesture was useless. Then I came to my senses and instead decided to call out and see if anyone within this temple, or tomb, or whatever it actually was, could actually hear me. If anyone really did live in that place at all! Doing that, I waited to see if anyone would reply. I saw no windows in the walls of that structure, and began to doubt that this was anything other than an old burial site of some kind. I turned my back to it and went back to where I had left my horse prior to walking up to this structure to investigate it. Before I reached the animal, the sound of stone grating upon stone could be heard, along with a low rumbling noise. I turned my head back to see that the gate was actually opening now. I rushed back over to it, and saw that the interior of the structure was well lit with torches and braziers. Deciding it must be inhabited after all, I decided to enter and see who it was that lived there. Surely, if people did dwell therein, then the one whom I was supposed to meet with had to be among them. Someone was waiting for me, the old man said, and this opening of the gate was to me a good sign that I was at least at the correct place. And perhaps expected.
Once I was inside the structure at last, the gate slammed closed behind me and before I could get any sort of good look at my surroundings all of the torches and the braziers within suddenly snuffed out, all quite upon their own as if blown dark by a wind that I could not see, hear, or feel. At least though it was dark outside from it being nighttime, the moon was bright enough that I was able to see. Now, however, there was no light, no illumination of any kind, only totally black and impenetrable darkness. It took me back to a childhood fear I had of the dark, and I began to panic, my heart racing. I screamed, but feared that I did so with no chance of being heard. Was this a trap after all? For all I knew, someone wished to see me entombed in this place. But even my most bitter foes had always seemed to possess more proper courage than to resort to such cowardly tactics! I began to slump to the floor, and melancholy overtook me, causing me to cry. I did not even know what made me feel so sad... it was as if for a moment I lost all control of my emotions and now found myself falling into a deep despair. I screamed again, and this time cried out: “Gods and goddesses of my mother! Help me, please... do not forsake your child.” And that is when the darkness disappeared. Suddenly, I was standing among the most beautiful green woods that I had ever seen in my entire life... and beyond them lay equally green meadows, filled with flowers of many brilliant colors but somehow all pale shades. The moon loomed large in the night sky, and the stars twinkled brilliantly. I decided to gaze at the stars a bit longer now, and saw to my surprise that the stars... the constellations thereof... were not ones I recognized. I did not understand how such a thing at all could be! Nor, how suddenly it was springtime. This place... it was not the countryside of Wales any longer, not any place I knew. How I had gotten here, I could not even hope to guess! There was a power in that building I entered, and whatever power it was had to be what conveyed me to this unknown land of pale splendors. I noticed a rough dirt road winding through the meadows, and walked towards it. My horse was gone, left back outside that building in the woods. In those other woods. And with it any and all of the supplies I kept in the saddlebags. I could only walk on, and try to reach some place where it so might be possible to come by a new mount, and fresh supplies. And then, hopefully try to discover just what this land was, and how I might find my way back to more familiar climes. The road ran on a long, and winding arch through this countryside, running only from east to west. I decided to go westward, as that had been the direction of my travels before coming to that hermit's cottage. Ere long, I met walking down the road a man who was traveling in the opposite direction... he being bound eastward. He wore a black hooded cloak much like mine, and a long flowing black robe with white trim. He leaned heavy on a gnarled wooden walking staff, and because it was nighttime I could thus make out nothing of his face or its' features, with all being hid within the shadows of his hood. He appeared quite weary, and stopped a bit when he saw me. Sensing he wished to speak with me, I walked over to him and hoped that he did at least understand my language when I said to him: “Greetings to you, sir! Do you know wherever it is that this road goes, either eastward or westward? I am a stranger here, and newly come at that.” He did at once say unto me, thankfully in the same tongue that I spoke: “I know the entire length of this road... from west to east, and back again. This place, is many places, you see! For many are the places that can be reached from here, and from which people might come hither from. As you, evidently have! But rest assured, Mordred son of Arthur the king... that your impulse to journey westward along this road, is the wisest course if ever again you would return to your world.” and I did not like that he knew exactly who I truly was. I demanded of him: “Hold, sir! By your strong, deep voice I can tell you are not an old man, though you keep to that staff much like a graybeard might. How do you know my name? Until this very moment, I have never met you before at least that I know of.” and he said me in a kindly tone: “It is not strange that I know all of men's, and women's, secrets. For in my own kingdom... of which this land is a part... the souls of both humankind and the fairest of all folk do come to dwell in order to await the time of their rebirth back into their material worlds. And many are those worlds! For this kingdom of mine... it is beyond and apart from them all, and yet a part of them all, always. Let me tell you something else!”
And, he leaned in close... his form becoming almost a living shadow in the dark of the night as he did so, and this he said unto me: “Many, are the places in your world, where folk might venture to cross on into my realm! And because I am a part of this domain, and it is a part of me, I always feel it when they do cross over whilst still clothed in flesh. I am less a person, as you understand it, and more a kind of... living manifestation of this place. This, is not the realm of Faerie you are in, Mordred! But that too can be reached, by traveling far enough eastward along this road. This is the realm of the dead. And the part of it that you find yourself in presently, is not where the dead actually dwell... rather, this road and all of the countryside and lands hereabout lie instead in a place between but not quite beyond. If that makes a bit more sense to you? And before you ask if the living can come here to meet with the dead, I must be firm in stating that this particular realm of the dead is not the only one in existence. You could search, and do so for countless lifetimes, and perhaps never find the soul you might be looking for. For, some upon death come to me... whilst others there are whose destiny it is to receive new temporary forms to wear, in the splendid domains of Faerie. And those are truly blessed folk indeed, and almost never are they of humankind who are rewarded so! The Fair Folk prefer always to keep their secrets for their own kindred, and for those they deem worthy of learning them. And then there are those souls who must go, after life is over, to the infernal places, whilst others are bound for places in which a paradise awaits to be savored. Some of the dead dwell apart from your world, and some dwell in a place within it. And, it is possible to reach all those places from here eventually. For, this is not the only road that lies in this land... there are countless roads, which travel in all directions! Always, the person who finds their way here, arrives near the road that is intended for them to travel down. Always... they in their hearts know the right direction to choose when reaching the road. And always, they meet me, if they are meant to. That is why I am weary! For I have many more folk to meet with today, and have met with many more prior to coming hither to speak with you. All domains in which the dead dwell are temporary, even the ones who dwell in Faerie cannot remain there forever. Everyone must sooner or later be reborn! For life is a cycle, and death lies at the end of it. But cycles, and circles, turn... they are not straight lines from a beginning to an end. Always, the circle turns, and one from death must be reborn to new life! The ways of the ancient druids, the old ways of your ancestors, teach this correctly. There are ways to escape the great cycle of which I speak, but those can take many lifetimes... many rebirths... before the person is at last ready for their soul to ascend in such a way. And, that is the last thing I shall share with you about the secrets of life and death, lest your mind snap from too much knowledge given too swiftly! Go now, Mordred, and depart soon from this place where the sun never rises and yet where true darkness cannot exist. When you leave here, you will remember nothing of our conversation at first... though in time, all that I have revealed to you in this hour you shall recall in full along with the memories of your previous incarnations. Those memories shall be my gift to you, and through them you will become powerful and hopefully wise. Do you know who I am now?” and I said to the hooded figure: “Yes, you are Death!” to which the being corrected me, stating: “No, I am not Death. I preside over but this one domain, whereas that pale queen who actually is Death... she, is the queen over all the places where the dead dwell, in all the forms she wears for those who come to behold her when the time is right. You have seen her before, and will again quite often before the end of your current life! For right now, she wears the flesh and the form of one most familiar to you, and to whom you are blood kindred. Whilst she walks in the guise of a living woman, her two twin sisters look after her eternal kingdoms, which are many and as numerous as there are living souls in existence. Do you understand now... why I must say no more, to you? If you do need a name for me, then call me Arawn. For that is who, and all, that I am. I must go now... for out eastward the folk of Faerie have need of me to help lead the Wild Hunt in order to recapture some souls who have managed to slip back into the living realms before their proper rebirth. I, am to be the master of the hounds for this hunt, and weary or not it is my sacred duty to thus retrieve those fugitive spirits.”
Having thus spoken with me at great length, and feeling great urgency, he bid me farewell and said to me before departing eastward along that road: “One day, Mordred son of Arthur the king... you will see that all I have told you is correct. I am incapable of telling a lie, though I can only speak of things that I know of of which are known to me. Remember! Journey westward from here, and keep upon the road.” And that I did, walking without end and remaining ever on the course that somehow I knew went west even before Arawn had told me that it so did. There was nothing else for it! I clearly did not die back in that building... but somehow, that uncanny place had deposited me, still living, into this place where no living soul is meant to journey to, or through. I had been here before, I sensed, in lives past. Either for a brief time, or for a long one. That is why the way was familiar to me... why everything about this place grew ever more familiar as I walked through it. The scent of the flowers, the sound of the night insects, the singing of the night birds, it all was like remembering things from childhood. The dead and those so waiting to be born, are one... and so life after death can be said to be like a childhood that comes before our next childhood. A time for a return to innocence, for the removal of all guilt, regret, fear or worry as yet remains from life... a purging of any remaining anger, with a period of punishment if one feels that it is needed even subconsciously, or if the evil they did in life demands it. And following all that, a time of rest and joy once all else is done, prior to being granted new flesh. And knowing all of that, as I soon realized I did quite well and truly, it did not surprise me that I found all of this to be intimately familiar. Time had no meaning there at all... and so I did not age during the time in which I journeyed along that road, and realized that when I returned to the world of the living once again it would be as if I had been gone only for the briefest of spans of time. This made me hasten my steps, which might seem strange to hear, since I had all the time in eternity if need be... but I felt the utter wrongness of being in that place, and how alien that place truly was in relation to physical life. Going at a quickened pace, I soon came to a great structure which looked identical to the one I had first entered to get here. The westward road, at least for me it seemed, ended at its' gate. It was much larger and more massive in size, this building, as compared to the one I had chanced upon in those foggy, misty woods. The alcoves of it were also much larger, as were all of the niches, and the skulls they contained were those of giants. Instead of crows, it was large bat-winged serpents with bird-like beaks and pointed tails... who nested within the highest of the alcoves this time. They were the size of ponies, and made shrill cries that ended in loud hisses. I did as I had before, and called out to whoever might be within that structure. Then I waited, and the gate so slid open, but the rumbling of it awoke the flying serpents, who flapped their wings and attempted to as one dive towards me, their beady eyes filled with murderous intent. I knew I could not hope to fight so many such beasts, and was doubtful I would have fared well even against one or two of them. I dove as fast as I could through the open gate, and it closed behind me immediately, plunging all into darkness. I did not scream or cry this time, there was no need to. I knew that I was on my way back to my world, to the realm of the living, once again. When the darkness cleared... I was standing before my horse in that exact forest wherein I had left the animal. There was no building to be seen anywhere, only some bits of loose rubble and rocks which were all that remained of the spot on which clearly something similar had once stood, in another age. Also... it was no longer nighttime. Instead, it was precisely the time of day it had been when I had first rode into these woods to begin with. I shook my head, trying to make sense of all that had just happened to me, and found that I simply could not do so. I had not been asleep, clearly, else it would surely have been nighttime by now... and so it was no dream. But was it instead a vision? I found that I could still quite clearly remember everything that Arawn had said to me, even though he so claimed that I would not be able to at first. Every detail of my experiences in his domain, were clear to me, and something seemed very wrong about my being able to remember everything in this way. I felt then a sudden pain surge through my head, just between my eyes, and became incredibly dizzy. I knew it was not from hunger or weariness... but regardless, the pain became so intense that it was sickening!
I passed out from the pain and the nausea, and when I came to, I possessed in addition to the memory of all that had transpired, other more ancient memories. Detailed recollections from past lives, and from previous incarnations. Indeed, it was true the teachings that the druids kept about reincarnation. I was, it seemed, the living proof of the wisdom of their beliefs! I was, from that moment forth, both Mordred... and yet, no longer simply Mordred. After a brief rest and some food from my horse's saddlebags, I gave a bit of food to my horse as well, and brushed its' mane before riding onward, deciding to continue my westward course. Something called to me, I knew now, from that direction. And I needed to discover at last what it was before I could return to Camelot and consider my personal quest to be at its' end. I had an idea what lay in my current direction... the great mountain of Yr Wyddfa, the highest mountain in all of Wales, the peak of which rose high above the beautiful land of Gwynedd. There was a lake which so lay within that region, and the name of it was Glaslyn. On the shores of Glaslyn, in those days, there did exist a small crudely constructed temple which was home to the Ladies of the Lake, an order of mighty priestesses and sorceresses in service to the ancient gods and goddesses. Though I knew of them, and it was mostly from tales, stories, and legends I heard of their deeds... it was not they whom I sought. My destination, was the mountain itself! It took many long hours to get there, and by the time I was within sight of it night had fallen. I stopped at a tiny village, only an hour's journey from there, and stayed for the night at a modest inn. There were few visitors to that inn... and the villagers evidently saw precious little in the way of outsiders to their community. Most eyed me strangely, a few were downright rude... and most could not be bothered to care one way or another about me. No one asked me where it was I was bound, though at least one woman shouted out to me to avoid the mountain at all costs if I valued my life and my soul. I ignored her, and she seemed highly agitated that I did so. However, once I slept and morning came at last I continued upon my way and gave the strange little village no further thought as my thoughts turned once more to the task at hand. As I reached the slopes of the mountain, that odd woman from the village who had shouted that warning me came riding up on her own horse. She was a plain looking woman with long straight brown hair, brown eyes... and light skin, with a bit of windburn across her face from being outdoors so much during colder, windier seasons. She was middle aged, and was pleasant looking but not at all beautiful. She wore a long dark green gown with long, wide sleeves, and over the gown she wore a thick fur cloak, wearing also a pair of fur boots upon her feet. She had an archer's bow in her hands, and a quiver of arrows strapped to her horse's saddle. “Young man!” she said to me, her voice filled with worry and fear: “Listen to me! That mountain, is home to the Fair Folk. Or, as we call them around here, the Tylwyth Teg. This clan of them who lives there, they are evil... not in any way at all like the pleasant Fair Folk of some of the tales that you might have heard told elsewhere. We've had men go there to seek their riches, which stories say are fabulous, and none have come back to speak of what befell them. Later... we always found their broken bodies, at the foot of the mountain not far from where we are right now, as if they had been cast down from the heights. Come back with me, and leave behind any thoughts of treasure, if that is what you seek!” and she looked insistent, her hand gripping her bow tightly as she finished speaking. I said to her: “Good woman, I do not seek any sort of treasure at all upon this mountain! I have for a long time now been feeling something calling to me from it, like a voice that is whispering to me to come hither. You could say, that I have actually thus been invited here! Would you prefer I ignore this summons, and possibly anger the Fair Folk by doing so? I am of their blood kin through my mother, and so if anything I should imagine they would seek to welcome me rather than throw me from their dwelling place like some thief.” I then brushed aside my hair so she could see the shape of my ears. My hair was quite long, down to the middle of my back, and I had neatly trimmed bangs that fell to just above my eyebrows. The woman smiled at me sweetly, and then exclaimed happily: “Then be welcome, kinsman! And know, that you have passed my test.” after which she brushed aside her hair and showed me that her own ears had the identical shape as mine did.
She led me up the cold, snowy mountain after that... along a winding trail which was wide enough for horses but still narrow enough that we had to ride each behind the other in order to remain safe. I let her be the one in the lead, since she knew where she was taking me. I had eaten well, the night before... and had tended to all my needs prior to setting out from the inn come morning. That proved wise, since it so was not known to me how long I might be gone for. And long was that path, a climb of several hours it seemed, for it wound its' way up the mountain in a long and roundabout way, ascending slowly but after a while steadily enough. Naturally, it became colder the higher we went, and from the heights one could see all of the land below for as far as the eye could see. I wondered what part of the mountain this was... for it was a massive peak, and many were the paths which one could take to ascend it. Some of them, a great deal older than others. From where we were now, I was able to look down towards Glaslyn below, and I found myself feeling a bit of vertigo when I actually did so. I spotted the occasional hawks flying in the skies above, and could hear their cries. This was not not a human domain, it was a place where it would not have been strange to meet giants or trolls, or to chance to see a dragon nesting. But there was not a single such creature to be encountered there, nor thankfully any hapless treasure seeking fools. It was a quiet place, a wild place, and a natural place. I found it peaceful, soothing, and enjoyable to be so exploring it in the company of a kinswoman. Eventually, before too much longer... we reached a place very high up indeed where the mountainside appeared rather strange and seemed to shimmer a bit. In all truth, I thought this to be a trick of the light... for the sun was after all glaring a bit off of the snow. But then, my guide got off of her horse and began to guide the horse towards the mountainside itself. They vanished into it, as if it was not really there. I touched the rock and snow that I knew should have been there, but my hand passed through it as if it were air itself. I got off of my horse, and guided it through just as the woman had done... discovering that it was only an illusion created by some magic in order to disguise the open entrance to a deep cavern. The interior of the cavern was illuminated with torches on sconces that were mounted upon the cavern walls at various intervals. All were lit for us already, and it so appeared that this cavern was actually inhabited! Or, the entrance to a place that was. My guide was waiting for me, and smiled mischievously as she saw that I had passed through the illusion. She said in a mirthful tone: “Well, I can see that it did not take much for you to discover I did not walk through the solid rock of the mountain! You do have some proper intuition after all. Not like most of the knights of your Round Table, who seem content oft times to solve everything with their swords. I'll not say what a good many of them think with, either. You're different though, kinsman, and rightly so being of our old blood. Follow me, there's something I've been wanting to show you for some time now.” and hearing it put that way by her, I inquired: “Wait a moment, lady! You said you've been wanting to do this, for a while now, but we've only just met back at the village. That isn't a very long time, if that is what your words are referring to.” and she froze in her tracks and then attempted to explain herself by saying: “I... that is to say, what I mean is that I've been waiting to show someone, anyone who is worthy of it really, the sights that you are about to bear witness to. That is all! And... I will not lie, there is something about you that I find familiar in a highly strange way. As if we've met before, and I am beginning to recall bits of it. Do you ever feel like that? Like, something is so familiar to you and yet you cannot quite put your finger on exactly why!” and I admitted to her: “Yes, and I have had that precise feeling about you since first you shouted to me back at the village. I knew that I knew you... but not from where, or when. I've begun to have the memories of past lives and previous incarnations return to me of late, after a vision I received from the god of the dead, Arawn. He said it was a gift from him to me, though if it is a gift... it feels in some ways like a burden as much a gift. Men, and women, should not seek out such knowledge I think. If it comes to them, fine, but better not to seek it outwardly.” The woman then walked up to me and caressed my cheek, almost lovingly. She said sweetly, softly: “Kinsman... you have great pain that you bear within you. And the beginnings of great wisdom. I like that!” Her breath was sweet, I noticed.
She shifted her bow to her right hand exclusively... and held my right hand with her left. We walked together, hand in hand, down the deep tunnel at the back of the cavern which seemed to descend under the mountain almost as far below it as we had already climbed to reach the cavern's entrance. It was just as well lit as the entrance cavern had been, and my guide's hand felt pleasingly warm to hold. We both held each other's hand tightly, and there was passion in that clasp. Why... did I find her so attractive just then? She was so much older than I was, she being about forty five years old I would have guessed, and hardly a great beauty by the standards of the bards. But her body had a nicely curvy figure to it, and her breasts were quite finely shaped. They jiggled a bit beneath her gown as she walked along, and they did so very slightly, but in a way that aroused me a great deal. I felt a stirring in my loins, and my guide at that moment noticed that I was staring at her bosom instead of at the tunnel before us. She smiled again in that mischievous manner that I must confess I found delightful. She squeezed my hand even tighter, and then said to me in a whisper: “You like me don't you, kinsman? I like you too! Later on, when we have some time to spare for it, we'll indulge in our mutual hunger for each other.” She then kissed the side of my cheek, and there was genuine love behind that gesture. “What is your name, lady?” I asked her, as we continued along the way downward. She said to me: “I cannot tell you that, yet. But I know who you are, Mordred! Did I not say that I knew you to be a knight? You hardly dress like one... and, the doings of the Pale Knight are hardly as famous as those of your brothers, though your motives are far purer than the lot of them. Even Gawain, whom you so idolize, is less goodly than you! One day, I have foreseen that he shall be sorely tested because of that. My test of you... it was a test, of your true character rather than a test of your identity, which I had already learned long before you arrived in that village. I have been calling to you, you see... calling to you from here. Longing for you to come hither, to set me free!” and something was bizarre about her words. I said to her: “Set you free? But lady, you are already free... you seemed quite at liberty at the village, and when you rode up to me ere we began out climb up the mountain! Whatever do you mean by what you say?” to which she answered: “Once you have been shown the answer to your question, the time will come for us to satisfy our hunger and slake our thirst! For I am hungry, and thirty, for far more than food or drink. That is why I called unto you, even across the very length and breadth of the land, until you heard my call and felt compelled by it to come hither. Do I appear at liberty to you? Aye! Did the passage we entered in the mountainside appear to be solid rock? Aye. Things are not always, what they appear to be... son of Arthur the king.” And though I did not pull away from her, I was greatly frightened by her words, which seemed to just then drip with menace. I averted my gaze from her and looked only at the tunnel before us after that. I did not know who she truly was, nor what she truly was. But she was no mere huntress, even one of the Fair Folk as she claimed to be. All of this seemed far too convenient, and I liked it less the more we did proceed onward. We soon reached the bottom of the tunnel, and it opened up into a vast chamber that was hollowed out of the very rock of the bones of the mountain itself. The chamber was roughly cut in a circular shape, with natural pillars formed from the meeting of stalactites and stalagmites. Eight were those pillars in all, and near four of them were deep shafts bored into the earth. There were tunnels off from that chamber, and I could not imagine where they went off to. There were eight thrones set up all around the circumference of that mighty hall, which is what this place had the appearance of. All of the thrones were empty, and looked as if they had been unused for centuries beyond counting. Displays for weapons lined some of the walls, but the weapons were ancient and rusted to uselessness. The chamber was well lit, with more torches lining the walls, and braziers set up near the pillars. None of that is what called to my attention greatly, however. My eyes instead fell firmly upon what lay in the exact center of the hall. For there, was a raised dais upon which sat a golden cauldron of ancient, ornate deign. About it was strung a garland of black pearls... and cut chains that were still affixed to the cauldron showed that at one time it had been suspended from the ceiling. The cauldron, seemed to be filled with fresh blood!
A winding and perilous course took me forth from Camelot, in the days when Arthur was the king of all the folk of what today is called Britain. There were goodly reasons for my setting forth, and of that journey which I undertook, and why it was I undertook it, there were dark undercurrents to all that had transpired... beneath which, some measure of light was at work, though at the time I knew it not. A big gray steed carried me, a steed with a night black saddle. I refused the offer of a chariot, for those were costly, and then I would need to tend to the hunger and care of two horses rather than simply one. Thus it was that this lone steed proved more fitted to the needs of my urgent quest. What was my quest? To, if possible, seek to learn and understand the truth of my lineage. For though my mother had told me, it vexed me greatly what she had revealed, and brought me much concern. For if Arthur was indeed, as she had said, my father... it would explain why he had knighted me, wishing to keep me close to him... and to the throne of his kingdom. But still did he refuse to name me his heir, because no child born of the incestuous union that I had been produced from could ever be allowed to reign as king over such a kingdom as Arthur's. His half sister was my mother, and she a great and much feared queen in her own right, as well as a priestess of the ancient gods and a practitioner of forbidden sorcery. She had told me that he would never treat me like a son, that he would never love me like a father should, and all as she had said proved to be true once I came to Camelot for the first time and was pledged into his service as soon as I was able to prove myself worthy through more than just being the son of a queen. Only Arthur himself and she who was my mother knew the truth of my birth, and they kept it between them, telling no one of Arthur's court about it. Instead, I was to all others introduced always as the youngest nephew of Arthur, and was expected to hold to this deception lest the truth cost me my very life. For even had I not been a child born of incest, there were many who might seek to slay a true blood heir to the king of Camelot. For such as I was, and should have been lawfully, was to some a challenge to their own high ambitions. Though I had no such ambitions of becoming king at the time... that changed, once I beheld things in the court that altered my once high opinion of Arthur and made me in time come to hate him, and see him as a villain of the blackest sort. It was never that I doubted my parentage... I knew that his darkness, which he hid from all so expertly and well, had coupled with my mother's and that both in me did produce something far darker still. I was not so innocent or naive to ignore what lay within the deep places of my innermost self. What I went in quest of on this occasion, was the answer to where this old darkness... for I sensed it was ancient... originated from. Of all in the court of the great king, I think that only Merlin had guessed at who I truly was... but he was ever kindly to me in the way that a grandfather is to their grandchild. He would dote upon me, give me gifts, and teach me some of my magical secrets once he saw that I had the aptitude for learning the ancient druid arts that were his specialty. He was a man of the old ways, the ancient traditions and the ways of the Mother Goddess and the Horned God of old. I truly liked him! He was not a hypocrite like my father was. Arthur said he wished to create, with Camelot, a kingdom where the Pagan ways of our ancestors could live in harmony with the new faith of the Christians. But more and more, he slid into the role of a Christian king... and our roots were swiftly in danger of becoming either lost entirely or confused and muddled beyond recognition. Noting this, I do believe, was the beginning of my enmity towards him! As much as his refusal to acknowledge me as she should have. He was not a bad king, my father. He was just a king who had lost his way and in time become something he probably had never wanted to be. I pitied him as much as a I grew to hate him. In truth, this was all partly why I needed to get away from Camelot for a time... to clear my head of all its' worries and growing fears, and to try and find some measure of inner peace, and truth. Just for the sake of clarification... Camelot was the name of both Arthur's kingdom and the great hill fort (which he kept adding unto until it more resembled a great castle than a fort) from which he ruled it. By the time of my birth, it had already surpassed any such fortress that existed elsewhere in the land. It was quite splendid!
My name was Mordred... as you may have perhaps already guessed by now. In the northern lands that my mother ruled over, I was called Medraut, and it was by that name which the folk of Wales called me as well. My mother's name was somewhat infamous in the land, for she was Morgause of Orkney. But, her enemies all called her the Witch Queen of Orkney. She was the blood sister, of that legendary high priestess of the Sisterhood of Avalon who was called Morgan the Fey. The blood of the Fair Folk was in our veins, and it was said that any child born from such a bloodline could only ever be a disciple of the old ways... which indeed I was, despite Arthur's occasional attempts to sway me to his peculiar and misplaced blend of Paganism and Christianity. I had many brothers! And every one, like me, became a knight of the Round Table. Gawain, Gareth, Gaheris and Agravain were their names, and I was of them all the very youngest... having been born last. By the time I reached adulthood and became a knight for the first time, they had already... the lot of them... achieved a great deal of renown, and had adventures and tales to tell me which seemed to my ears almost the stuff of legends. Of all my brothers, truth be it that Gawain was my favorite... and the most like unto myself in many ways. He was courteous, full of compassion, and was honorable as well. But he could be impatient at times, much like myself, and was prone to thinking with his heart more than his head. A trait I likewise shared, with him... probably to a fault. It was his stories which fascinated me the most of all my brothers, and he was the one I looked up to as a role model and tried to be the most like. I despised Gaheris, however! Of all my brothers, he was the most wicked and mean-spirited, being prone to great cruelties and more vices than a knight aught to have. Years hence, he would murder our mother and dishonor our house by doing so. But that was long in the future at this point in time, though the signs were there that the man was not right in his thoughts. Whilst all of my brothers looked very much like the children of Morgause and her husband Lot, he who was king over the Orkney islands and the greater realm of Lothian... I looked quite different from them. I was a great deal paler than most men of the north, my skin being as white as snow, a trait that I shared with my mother's sister Morgan. Something that ran in our family... but sometimes skipped generations. My hair was pale blonde with reddish highlights, due to my mother having had pale blonde hair and my father Arthur having had light reddish brown hair. I had my father's grayish blue eyes, and only I of all my family had eyes that shade. For, my mother's eyes had been green, and the eyes of King Lot were a deep brown. I had my mother's high cheekbones, delicate skin, slender bones, and small mouth. And I also had her most peculiar feature, that being her slightly tapered ears. A trait she had in common with both her sister Morgan and with oddly enough Merlin himself. Though Merlin it was said had the blood of the Fair Folk within him as well, with many of the Christian faith cruelly claiming that his father was the Devil, which was far from the truth. I had my father's nose, which was somewhat aquiline but not in a way that was overly long... it was noble looking, and it went well with my other features. I was not a tall man, and easily the shortest of all my brothers, being five feet and eight inches in height. As a child, I had been sickly quite often, and were it not for the healing arts of my aunt Morgan I would have died on several occasions. She once told me... that I only survived because I was under the protection of the old gods of the land. I was of average build, being the weakest physically of all my family, and my face unlike my brothers was more feminine looking than masculine. I had long eyelashes... slender fingers... and a soft voice. People often found my voice to be compelling, and when I spoke people tended more oft than not to listen to what I had to say. I was, some whispered, a throwback to the Fair Folk of old in countless respects... and because of that, some who were not of the old ways and the ancient beliefs did think me to be as much a product of the Devil as Merlin. Though neither of us, were the spawn of Hell! I was known to some as the Pale Knight, and because my almost albino-like visage produced fear in the more superstitious... I often when abroad in the land, wore a black hooded cloak about me. So now you know of my family, my appearance, and some of the challenges I faced in my daily life back then. Far, from the villain that the legends would one day make me out to be! In all truth, I even tried to be a hero.
The journey across the land was not as long as I had perhaps anticipated, and yet it seemed to go on... and on... for a great many days indeed. I stopped at various small villages and hamlets, and paid always for a room at this inn or that, so that I could sleep through each night in comfort rather than risk being set upon by bandits whilst sleeping beneath the stars. Sometimes, folk recognized me and sometimes it seemed that they did not. The fame of the knights of the Round Table traveled further than I realized... but not as far as it might have been assumed to be by the king himself. It was not like I tried to draw the attention of folk, either, preferring more oft than not to remain anonymous during most of my journeys. I wore a long ankle-length black tunic of fine quality which also had long sleeves, and about my waist I wore a soft leather belt. Beneath the tunic, I wore a pair of baggy white trousers tucked into a pair of fur boots. And sheathed at my side, was a short sword of old Roman design, a gift given to me by Arthur at the festival that was held to honor the occasion of my knighting. Ever since that day, that blade had not left my side, and it was by its' metal that I had seen Arthur's justice done. It was upon that sword that I swore oaths of honor, by its' sharpness that many enemies had been sent to their deaths. Though I never sought conflict, for such was not a knight's way, I did not run from it either. But until this journey, that same of which I write herein, I had not as of yet had the sort of adventurers that could be sung of by the bards of the king's court. My cloak kept me warm as my steed carried me farther and farther from home and into lands which I had never before ventured to. Though I had brought plenty of coin, and had some very needed supplies tucked away in my horse's saddlebags... there was always a fear of running low or having to go back before actually accomplishing anything. But soon, once I was well within the borders of Wales, I sometimes encountered many who were willing to take me in for the night and feed me well in return for me serving for a bit as a guard for their lands for the length of a single day. The day, and of course its' work, always came first. Sometimes, the work was dull and nothing happened, but during the worst times bandits or thieves would set upon the places I was supposed to protect. I was not alone, and the menfolk of those places always fought at my side against these criminals. But inevitably, those ever and always ended bloodily, those encounters... but at last it saw that justice was being done and that the folk of the land were being protected. Folk began to see that the Pale Knight could be compassionate as well as fearsome, and sometimes people would seek me out having heard that I was willing to fight for the well being of the common people. It was not always for fighting that I was known, though... and on one such day, as a voice called out to me from one of the cottages I passed when making my way, slow as my progress was, across the land, I came to realize that perhaps my fame did precede me after all. It was a small solitary cottage in the middle of pretty much nowhere... surrounded, on all sides, by rather vast stretches of grassland, hills, and deep woods. The season was mid-autumn. The air was crisp, the skies grayer than my horse, and there was fog and mist among the trees, rolling down from the far hills. The voice from within the cottage, exclaimed loudly: “Sir knight! You are the Pale Knight that people tell of, the one who aids folk in need for no pay except the kindness of food and a bed. Come hither, to the window of my cottage, and let us speak! I may have a task more to your liking than most.” It was an old man's voice, and I was intrigued by his words. I took him to be a hermit, and so he looked to be. He wore a long thick robe much like a monk's robe, and a shaggy looking fur cloak... his face looking quite ancient with its' long bushy white beard. His hair was long, and surprisingly still full for one so old. He had sad looking dark eyes, and an almost cruel mouth though his manner was friendly and his tone of voice sometimes melancholy as he said to me once I stood by the window regarding him, having gotten off of my horse to do so: “If you seek things more esoteric, than the usual forms of payment you take... then heed what I shall tell you now! In yonder forest... there is a place, where someone awaits you. Fear you not, this is no trap and I am not one to consort with the sort of criminals who would see harm befall a knight of the Round Table itself. Such would surely imperil my very soul! I am merely a messenger of sorts, and a servant of the old ways. If you too serve them, then venture into those woods, and be bold.”
I saw the direction he had pointed in, and looked off in it, turning my back to him for but a moment as I did so. When I turned back to regard him once more, he was gone and I saw that all the interior of that cottage was in a state that indicated no one had lived there in countless decades. Only a black raven, so could be seen within, along with several rats. The raven took off out another of the cottage's windows... leaving me to wonder if somehow the raven itself had been the old man. I got back on my horse and did make for those woods at a reasonable pace. Whoever awaited me therein, I knew somehow that I had to meet with them and learn what it is they wished of me. But as I had earlier noted, the woods were filled with fog and mist, and before long I was in danger of becoming quite lost. Deeper and deeper I rode on, slowing my pace when the forest grew wilder and the way through it less clear to guess at. Soon, it did feel as if I was riding through clouds, and after some time like that the fog and the mists parted, which I was quite relieved to see. But whereas just moments before, it had been daylight out... it now was night. For as I looked up at the skies above the dark forest through which I rode, which now because it was all in the darkness of night, had become to my eyes the blackest woods I had ever beheld, I could see that the stars were out and the moon was shining, its' pale white face reminding me of my own. And in the woods before me, among the twisted black forms of the trees, and amid high brambles, there did loom an ancient looking structure. It looked to be something from the ancient world, for nothing of the design of it was evocative of the sort of architecture I was familiar with. It was square, in shape... and, had to it the look of a temple of some sort. Eight columns were along the front of it, four to one side of the gate, and four to the other. The gate itself was made of stone rather than wood, and the entire temple looked to be made from stone. Big, heavy stones, of the sort that no one built with any longer. Like those of the megalithic structures that could be seen in various parts of the land, only unlike they... this building did not appear to be in a state of disrepair. Whatever it had once been used for, this place still appeared to be strong and mighty, like unto the mountains of the earth in that way. The roof looked to be curved in the front and back, and straight at the sides, with the middle almost forming into a dome. The pillars all looked strange, because they had a design upon them which looked serpentine. There were alcoves and niches set into the outer front wall, to both sides of the gate, just behind the pillars. In every one of the recesses could be seen piles of human skulls. It was common for the ancient Pagan folk of the land to in battle claim the heads of their enemies. Oft, such heads would end up displayed as trophies. I wondered if that is what I was looking at here... a temple built by the people of those bygone times. Then, I did so recall that Morgan had one told me how those times were not as distant as many believed. It was a very simple statement, and here I saw the truth of it made manifest. Crows nested in many of the highest of the alcoves, and I could hear their course cries growing louder as I approached the gate to have a look at it more closely. The gate looked to have not been opened in countless ages, and I saw no way to open it. It was a solid, featureless stone slab of the sort that one might set up to forever seal a tomb. I pounded on its' surface with my fists, knowing in my heart that such a futile gesture was useless. Then I came to my senses and instead decided to call out and see if anyone within this temple, or tomb, or whatever it actually was, could actually hear me. If anyone really did live in that place at all! Doing that, I waited to see if anyone would reply. I saw no windows in the walls of that structure, and began to doubt that this was anything other than an old burial site of some kind. I turned my back to it and went back to where I had left my horse prior to walking up to this structure to investigate it. Before I reached the animal, the sound of stone grating upon stone could be heard, along with a low rumbling noise. I turned my head back to see that the gate was actually opening now. I rushed back over to it, and saw that the interior of the structure was well lit with torches and braziers. Deciding it must be inhabited after all, I decided to enter and see who it was that lived there. Surely, if people did dwell therein, then the one whom I was supposed to meet with had to be among them. Someone was waiting for me, the old man said, and this opening of the gate was to me a good sign that I was at least at the correct place. And perhaps expected.
Once I was inside the structure at last, the gate slammed closed behind me and before I could get any sort of good look at my surroundings all of the torches and the braziers within suddenly snuffed out, all quite upon their own as if blown dark by a wind that I could not see, hear, or feel. At least though it was dark outside from it being nighttime, the moon was bright enough that I was able to see. Now, however, there was no light, no illumination of any kind, only totally black and impenetrable darkness. It took me back to a childhood fear I had of the dark, and I began to panic, my heart racing. I screamed, but feared that I did so with no chance of being heard. Was this a trap after all? For all I knew, someone wished to see me entombed in this place. But even my most bitter foes had always seemed to possess more proper courage than to resort to such cowardly tactics! I began to slump to the floor, and melancholy overtook me, causing me to cry. I did not even know what made me feel so sad... it was as if for a moment I lost all control of my emotions and now found myself falling into a deep despair. I screamed again, and this time cried out: “Gods and goddesses of my mother! Help me, please... do not forsake your child.” And that is when the darkness disappeared. Suddenly, I was standing among the most beautiful green woods that I had ever seen in my entire life... and beyond them lay equally green meadows, filled with flowers of many brilliant colors but somehow all pale shades. The moon loomed large in the night sky, and the stars twinkled brilliantly. I decided to gaze at the stars a bit longer now, and saw to my surprise that the stars... the constellations thereof... were not ones I recognized. I did not understand how such a thing at all could be! Nor, how suddenly it was springtime. This place... it was not the countryside of Wales any longer, not any place I knew. How I had gotten here, I could not even hope to guess! There was a power in that building I entered, and whatever power it was had to be what conveyed me to this unknown land of pale splendors. I noticed a rough dirt road winding through the meadows, and walked towards it. My horse was gone, left back outside that building in the woods. In those other woods. And with it any and all of the supplies I kept in the saddlebags. I could only walk on, and try to reach some place where it so might be possible to come by a new mount, and fresh supplies. And then, hopefully try to discover just what this land was, and how I might find my way back to more familiar climes. The road ran on a long, and winding arch through this countryside, running only from east to west. I decided to go westward, as that had been the direction of my travels before coming to that hermit's cottage. Ere long, I met walking down the road a man who was traveling in the opposite direction... he being bound eastward. He wore a black hooded cloak much like mine, and a long flowing black robe with white trim. He leaned heavy on a gnarled wooden walking staff, and because it was nighttime I could thus make out nothing of his face or its' features, with all being hid within the shadows of his hood. He appeared quite weary, and stopped a bit when he saw me. Sensing he wished to speak with me, I walked over to him and hoped that he did at least understand my language when I said to him: “Greetings to you, sir! Do you know wherever it is that this road goes, either eastward or westward? I am a stranger here, and newly come at that.” He did at once say unto me, thankfully in the same tongue that I spoke: “I know the entire length of this road... from west to east, and back again. This place, is many places, you see! For many are the places that can be reached from here, and from which people might come hither from. As you, evidently have! But rest assured, Mordred son of Arthur the king... that your impulse to journey westward along this road, is the wisest course if ever again you would return to your world.” and I did not like that he knew exactly who I truly was. I demanded of him: “Hold, sir! By your strong, deep voice I can tell you are not an old man, though you keep to that staff much like a graybeard might. How do you know my name? Until this very moment, I have never met you before at least that I know of.” and he said me in a kindly tone: “It is not strange that I know all of men's, and women's, secrets. For in my own kingdom... of which this land is a part... the souls of both humankind and the fairest of all folk do come to dwell in order to await the time of their rebirth back into their material worlds. And many are those worlds! For this kingdom of mine... it is beyond and apart from them all, and yet a part of them all, always. Let me tell you something else!”
And, he leaned in close... his form becoming almost a living shadow in the dark of the night as he did so, and this he said unto me: “Many, are the places in your world, where folk might venture to cross on into my realm! And because I am a part of this domain, and it is a part of me, I always feel it when they do cross over whilst still clothed in flesh. I am less a person, as you understand it, and more a kind of... living manifestation of this place. This, is not the realm of Faerie you are in, Mordred! But that too can be reached, by traveling far enough eastward along this road. This is the realm of the dead. And the part of it that you find yourself in presently, is not where the dead actually dwell... rather, this road and all of the countryside and lands hereabout lie instead in a place between but not quite beyond. If that makes a bit more sense to you? And before you ask if the living can come here to meet with the dead, I must be firm in stating that this particular realm of the dead is not the only one in existence. You could search, and do so for countless lifetimes, and perhaps never find the soul you might be looking for. For, some upon death come to me... whilst others there are whose destiny it is to receive new temporary forms to wear, in the splendid domains of Faerie. And those are truly blessed folk indeed, and almost never are they of humankind who are rewarded so! The Fair Folk prefer always to keep their secrets for their own kindred, and for those they deem worthy of learning them. And then there are those souls who must go, after life is over, to the infernal places, whilst others are bound for places in which a paradise awaits to be savored. Some of the dead dwell apart from your world, and some dwell in a place within it. And, it is possible to reach all those places from here eventually. For, this is not the only road that lies in this land... there are countless roads, which travel in all directions! Always, the person who finds their way here, arrives near the road that is intended for them to travel down. Always... they in their hearts know the right direction to choose when reaching the road. And always, they meet me, if they are meant to. That is why I am weary! For I have many more folk to meet with today, and have met with many more prior to coming hither to speak with you. All domains in which the dead dwell are temporary, even the ones who dwell in Faerie cannot remain there forever. Everyone must sooner or later be reborn! For life is a cycle, and death lies at the end of it. But cycles, and circles, turn... they are not straight lines from a beginning to an end. Always, the circle turns, and one from death must be reborn to new life! The ways of the ancient druids, the old ways of your ancestors, teach this correctly. There are ways to escape the great cycle of which I speak, but those can take many lifetimes... many rebirths... before the person is at last ready for their soul to ascend in such a way. And, that is the last thing I shall share with you about the secrets of life and death, lest your mind snap from too much knowledge given too swiftly! Go now, Mordred, and depart soon from this place where the sun never rises and yet where true darkness cannot exist. When you leave here, you will remember nothing of our conversation at first... though in time, all that I have revealed to you in this hour you shall recall in full along with the memories of your previous incarnations. Those memories shall be my gift to you, and through them you will become powerful and hopefully wise. Do you know who I am now?” and I said to the hooded figure: “Yes, you are Death!” to which the being corrected me, stating: “No, I am not Death. I preside over but this one domain, whereas that pale queen who actually is Death... she, is the queen over all the places where the dead dwell, in all the forms she wears for those who come to behold her when the time is right. You have seen her before, and will again quite often before the end of your current life! For right now, she wears the flesh and the form of one most familiar to you, and to whom you are blood kindred. Whilst she walks in the guise of a living woman, her two twin sisters look after her eternal kingdoms, which are many and as numerous as there are living souls in existence. Do you understand now... why I must say no more, to you? If you do need a name for me, then call me Arawn. For that is who, and all, that I am. I must go now... for out eastward the folk of Faerie have need of me to help lead the Wild Hunt in order to recapture some souls who have managed to slip back into the living realms before their proper rebirth. I, am to be the master of the hounds for this hunt, and weary or not it is my sacred duty to thus retrieve those fugitive spirits.”
Having thus spoken with me at great length, and feeling great urgency, he bid me farewell and said to me before departing eastward along that road: “One day, Mordred son of Arthur the king... you will see that all I have told you is correct. I am incapable of telling a lie, though I can only speak of things that I know of of which are known to me. Remember! Journey westward from here, and keep upon the road.” And that I did, walking without end and remaining ever on the course that somehow I knew went west even before Arawn had told me that it so did. There was nothing else for it! I clearly did not die back in that building... but somehow, that uncanny place had deposited me, still living, into this place where no living soul is meant to journey to, or through. I had been here before, I sensed, in lives past. Either for a brief time, or for a long one. That is why the way was familiar to me... why everything about this place grew ever more familiar as I walked through it. The scent of the flowers, the sound of the night insects, the singing of the night birds, it all was like remembering things from childhood. The dead and those so waiting to be born, are one... and so life after death can be said to be like a childhood that comes before our next childhood. A time for a return to innocence, for the removal of all guilt, regret, fear or worry as yet remains from life... a purging of any remaining anger, with a period of punishment if one feels that it is needed even subconsciously, or if the evil they did in life demands it. And following all that, a time of rest and joy once all else is done, prior to being granted new flesh. And knowing all of that, as I soon realized I did quite well and truly, it did not surprise me that I found all of this to be intimately familiar. Time had no meaning there at all... and so I did not age during the time in which I journeyed along that road, and realized that when I returned to the world of the living once again it would be as if I had been gone only for the briefest of spans of time. This made me hasten my steps, which might seem strange to hear, since I had all the time in eternity if need be... but I felt the utter wrongness of being in that place, and how alien that place truly was in relation to physical life. Going at a quickened pace, I soon came to a great structure which looked identical to the one I had first entered to get here. The westward road, at least for me it seemed, ended at its' gate. It was much larger and more massive in size, this building, as compared to the one I had chanced upon in those foggy, misty woods. The alcoves of it were also much larger, as were all of the niches, and the skulls they contained were those of giants. Instead of crows, it was large bat-winged serpents with bird-like beaks and pointed tails... who nested within the highest of the alcoves this time. They were the size of ponies, and made shrill cries that ended in loud hisses. I did as I had before, and called out to whoever might be within that structure. Then I waited, and the gate so slid open, but the rumbling of it awoke the flying serpents, who flapped their wings and attempted to as one dive towards me, their beady eyes filled with murderous intent. I knew I could not hope to fight so many such beasts, and was doubtful I would have fared well even against one or two of them. I dove as fast as I could through the open gate, and it closed behind me immediately, plunging all into darkness. I did not scream or cry this time, there was no need to. I knew that I was on my way back to my world, to the realm of the living, once again. When the darkness cleared... I was standing before my horse in that exact forest wherein I had left the animal. There was no building to be seen anywhere, only some bits of loose rubble and rocks which were all that remained of the spot on which clearly something similar had once stood, in another age. Also... it was no longer nighttime. Instead, it was precisely the time of day it had been when I had first rode into these woods to begin with. I shook my head, trying to make sense of all that had just happened to me, and found that I simply could not do so. I had not been asleep, clearly, else it would surely have been nighttime by now... and so it was no dream. But was it instead a vision? I found that I could still quite clearly remember everything that Arawn had said to me, even though he so claimed that I would not be able to at first. Every detail of my experiences in his domain, were clear to me, and something seemed very wrong about my being able to remember everything in this way. I felt then a sudden pain surge through my head, just between my eyes, and became incredibly dizzy. I knew it was not from hunger or weariness... but regardless, the pain became so intense that it was sickening!
I passed out from the pain and the nausea, and when I came to, I possessed in addition to the memory of all that had transpired, other more ancient memories. Detailed recollections from past lives, and from previous incarnations. Indeed, it was true the teachings that the druids kept about reincarnation. I was, it seemed, the living proof of the wisdom of their beliefs! I was, from that moment forth, both Mordred... and yet, no longer simply Mordred. After a brief rest and some food from my horse's saddlebags, I gave a bit of food to my horse as well, and brushed its' mane before riding onward, deciding to continue my westward course. Something called to me, I knew now, from that direction. And I needed to discover at last what it was before I could return to Camelot and consider my personal quest to be at its' end. I had an idea what lay in my current direction... the great mountain of Yr Wyddfa, the highest mountain in all of Wales, the peak of which rose high above the beautiful land of Gwynedd. There was a lake which so lay within that region, and the name of it was Glaslyn. On the shores of Glaslyn, in those days, there did exist a small crudely constructed temple which was home to the Ladies of the Lake, an order of mighty priestesses and sorceresses in service to the ancient gods and goddesses. Though I knew of them, and it was mostly from tales, stories, and legends I heard of their deeds... it was not they whom I sought. My destination, was the mountain itself! It took many long hours to get there, and by the time I was within sight of it night had fallen. I stopped at a tiny village, only an hour's journey from there, and stayed for the night at a modest inn. There were few visitors to that inn... and the villagers evidently saw precious little in the way of outsiders to their community. Most eyed me strangely, a few were downright rude... and most could not be bothered to care one way or another about me. No one asked me where it was I was bound, though at least one woman shouted out to me to avoid the mountain at all costs if I valued my life and my soul. I ignored her, and she seemed highly agitated that I did so. However, once I slept and morning came at last I continued upon my way and gave the strange little village no further thought as my thoughts turned once more to the task at hand. As I reached the slopes of the mountain, that odd woman from the village who had shouted that warning me came riding up on her own horse. She was a plain looking woman with long straight brown hair, brown eyes... and light skin, with a bit of windburn across her face from being outdoors so much during colder, windier seasons. She was middle aged, and was pleasant looking but not at all beautiful. She wore a long dark green gown with long, wide sleeves, and over the gown she wore a thick fur cloak, wearing also a pair of fur boots upon her feet. She had an archer's bow in her hands, and a quiver of arrows strapped to her horse's saddle. “Young man!” she said to me, her voice filled with worry and fear: “Listen to me! That mountain, is home to the Fair Folk. Or, as we call them around here, the Tylwyth Teg. This clan of them who lives there, they are evil... not in any way at all like the pleasant Fair Folk of some of the tales that you might have heard told elsewhere. We've had men go there to seek their riches, which stories say are fabulous, and none have come back to speak of what befell them. Later... we always found their broken bodies, at the foot of the mountain not far from where we are right now, as if they had been cast down from the heights. Come back with me, and leave behind any thoughts of treasure, if that is what you seek!” and she looked insistent, her hand gripping her bow tightly as she finished speaking. I said to her: “Good woman, I do not seek any sort of treasure at all upon this mountain! I have for a long time now been feeling something calling to me from it, like a voice that is whispering to me to come hither. You could say, that I have actually thus been invited here! Would you prefer I ignore this summons, and possibly anger the Fair Folk by doing so? I am of their blood kin through my mother, and so if anything I should imagine they would seek to welcome me rather than throw me from their dwelling place like some thief.” I then brushed aside my hair so she could see the shape of my ears. My hair was quite long, down to the middle of my back, and I had neatly trimmed bangs that fell to just above my eyebrows. The woman smiled at me sweetly, and then exclaimed happily: “Then be welcome, kinsman! And know, that you have passed my test.” after which she brushed aside her hair and showed me that her own ears had the identical shape as mine did.
She led me up the cold, snowy mountain after that... along a winding trail which was wide enough for horses but still narrow enough that we had to ride each behind the other in order to remain safe. I let her be the one in the lead, since she knew where she was taking me. I had eaten well, the night before... and had tended to all my needs prior to setting out from the inn come morning. That proved wise, since it so was not known to me how long I might be gone for. And long was that path, a climb of several hours it seemed, for it wound its' way up the mountain in a long and roundabout way, ascending slowly but after a while steadily enough. Naturally, it became colder the higher we went, and from the heights one could see all of the land below for as far as the eye could see. I wondered what part of the mountain this was... for it was a massive peak, and many were the paths which one could take to ascend it. Some of them, a great deal older than others. From where we were now, I was able to look down towards Glaslyn below, and I found myself feeling a bit of vertigo when I actually did so. I spotted the occasional hawks flying in the skies above, and could hear their cries. This was not not a human domain, it was a place where it would not have been strange to meet giants or trolls, or to chance to see a dragon nesting. But there was not a single such creature to be encountered there, nor thankfully any hapless treasure seeking fools. It was a quiet place, a wild place, and a natural place. I found it peaceful, soothing, and enjoyable to be so exploring it in the company of a kinswoman. Eventually, before too much longer... we reached a place very high up indeed where the mountainside appeared rather strange and seemed to shimmer a bit. In all truth, I thought this to be a trick of the light... for the sun was after all glaring a bit off of the snow. But then, my guide got off of her horse and began to guide the horse towards the mountainside itself. They vanished into it, as if it was not really there. I touched the rock and snow that I knew should have been there, but my hand passed through it as if it were air itself. I got off of my horse, and guided it through just as the woman had done... discovering that it was only an illusion created by some magic in order to disguise the open entrance to a deep cavern. The interior of the cavern was illuminated with torches on sconces that were mounted upon the cavern walls at various intervals. All were lit for us already, and it so appeared that this cavern was actually inhabited! Or, the entrance to a place that was. My guide was waiting for me, and smiled mischievously as she saw that I had passed through the illusion. She said in a mirthful tone: “Well, I can see that it did not take much for you to discover I did not walk through the solid rock of the mountain! You do have some proper intuition after all. Not like most of the knights of your Round Table, who seem content oft times to solve everything with their swords. I'll not say what a good many of them think with, either. You're different though, kinsman, and rightly so being of our old blood. Follow me, there's something I've been wanting to show you for some time now.” and hearing it put that way by her, I inquired: “Wait a moment, lady! You said you've been wanting to do this, for a while now, but we've only just met back at the village. That isn't a very long time, if that is what your words are referring to.” and she froze in her tracks and then attempted to explain herself by saying: “I... that is to say, what I mean is that I've been waiting to show someone, anyone who is worthy of it really, the sights that you are about to bear witness to. That is all! And... I will not lie, there is something about you that I find familiar in a highly strange way. As if we've met before, and I am beginning to recall bits of it. Do you ever feel like that? Like, something is so familiar to you and yet you cannot quite put your finger on exactly why!” and I admitted to her: “Yes, and I have had that precise feeling about you since first you shouted to me back at the village. I knew that I knew you... but not from where, or when. I've begun to have the memories of past lives and previous incarnations return to me of late, after a vision I received from the god of the dead, Arawn. He said it was a gift from him to me, though if it is a gift... it feels in some ways like a burden as much a gift. Men, and women, should not seek out such knowledge I think. If it comes to them, fine, but better not to seek it outwardly.” The woman then walked up to me and caressed my cheek, almost lovingly. She said sweetly, softly: “Kinsman... you have great pain that you bear within you. And the beginnings of great wisdom. I like that!” Her breath was sweet, I noticed.
She shifted her bow to her right hand exclusively... and held my right hand with her left. We walked together, hand in hand, down the deep tunnel at the back of the cavern which seemed to descend under the mountain almost as far below it as we had already climbed to reach the cavern's entrance. It was just as well lit as the entrance cavern had been, and my guide's hand felt pleasingly warm to hold. We both held each other's hand tightly, and there was passion in that clasp. Why... did I find her so attractive just then? She was so much older than I was, she being about forty five years old I would have guessed, and hardly a great beauty by the standards of the bards. But her body had a nicely curvy figure to it, and her breasts were quite finely shaped. They jiggled a bit beneath her gown as she walked along, and they did so very slightly, but in a way that aroused me a great deal. I felt a stirring in my loins, and my guide at that moment noticed that I was staring at her bosom instead of at the tunnel before us. She smiled again in that mischievous manner that I must confess I found delightful. She squeezed my hand even tighter, and then said to me in a whisper: “You like me don't you, kinsman? I like you too! Later on, when we have some time to spare for it, we'll indulge in our mutual hunger for each other.” She then kissed the side of my cheek, and there was genuine love behind that gesture. “What is your name, lady?” I asked her, as we continued along the way downward. She said to me: “I cannot tell you that, yet. But I know who you are, Mordred! Did I not say that I knew you to be a knight? You hardly dress like one... and, the doings of the Pale Knight are hardly as famous as those of your brothers, though your motives are far purer than the lot of them. Even Gawain, whom you so idolize, is less goodly than you! One day, I have foreseen that he shall be sorely tested because of that. My test of you... it was a test, of your true character rather than a test of your identity, which I had already learned long before you arrived in that village. I have been calling to you, you see... calling to you from here. Longing for you to come hither, to set me free!” and something was bizarre about her words. I said to her: “Set you free? But lady, you are already free... you seemed quite at liberty at the village, and when you rode up to me ere we began out climb up the mountain! Whatever do you mean by what you say?” to which she answered: “Once you have been shown the answer to your question, the time will come for us to satisfy our hunger and slake our thirst! For I am hungry, and thirty, for far more than food or drink. That is why I called unto you, even across the very length and breadth of the land, until you heard my call and felt compelled by it to come hither. Do I appear at liberty to you? Aye! Did the passage we entered in the mountainside appear to be solid rock? Aye. Things are not always, what they appear to be... son of Arthur the king.” And though I did not pull away from her, I was greatly frightened by her words, which seemed to just then drip with menace. I averted my gaze from her and looked only at the tunnel before us after that. I did not know who she truly was, nor what she truly was. But she was no mere huntress, even one of the Fair Folk as she claimed to be. All of this seemed far too convenient, and I liked it less the more we did proceed onward. We soon reached the bottom of the tunnel, and it opened up into a vast chamber that was hollowed out of the very rock of the bones of the mountain itself. The chamber was roughly cut in a circular shape, with natural pillars formed from the meeting of stalactites and stalagmites. Eight were those pillars in all, and near four of them were deep shafts bored into the earth. There were tunnels off from that chamber, and I could not imagine where they went off to. There were eight thrones set up all around the circumference of that mighty hall, which is what this place had the appearance of. All of the thrones were empty, and looked as if they had been unused for centuries beyond counting. Displays for weapons lined some of the walls, but the weapons were ancient and rusted to uselessness. The chamber was well lit, with more torches lining the walls, and braziers set up near the pillars. None of that is what called to my attention greatly, however. My eyes instead fell firmly upon what lay in the exact center of the hall. For there, was a raised dais upon which sat a golden cauldron of ancient, ornate deign. About it was strung a garland of black pearls... and cut chains that were still affixed to the cauldron showed that at one time it had been suspended from the ceiling. The cauldron, seemed to be filled with fresh blood!
Published 2nd Dec 2022
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